


One Night

by sanguisuga



Series: Aberrant Fragments [2]
Category: BBC Sherlock, Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Accounting, Boys Being Silly, Face-Fucking, First Meetings, Hand Jobs, M/M, Oral Sex, Prompt Fic, Prompt Fill, Some Fluff, Tumblr Prompt, You've been warned..., and sexier than anyone has any right to be, and stinking adorable, bartending, honestly, mystrade, safe sex, second chapter is pure smut, some dirty talk, this was meant to be a one-shot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-06
Updated: 2018-01-02
Packaged: 2018-03-29 05:54:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3884887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sanguisuga/pseuds/sanguisuga
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for a prompt from "Sherlock Rare Pair Bingo".</p><p>The prompt was "alternate professions", and I've chosen Greg & Mycroft as my pairing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I got two prompts in the first week! Yay! (Although that might mean zero next week... Boo...)
> 
> One-shot dealio, please let me know what you think!
> 
> Not beta'ed or brit-picked, since it's just for fun.

Greg stepped into the club and looked around with a frown firmly affixed to his face. Why the hell had he even come in here? His mind had been in a fog most of the day, and it hadn’t dissipated even after leaving the office, at damn near eight at night. No, he had continued to drift mindlessly as his body had acted on auto-pilot, but of course he had gotten off at the wrong stop because a body needs a pilot to step in every once in a while, doesn’t it? Either that, or else risk a spectacular crash n’ burn, eh?

Feeling a bit restless and needing some fresh air, he decided to ascend to the pavement and take a look around anyway. Who knows, maybe a good brisk walk was just what he needed to clear the mist from his head. Or perhaps a good drink instead. By happy circumstance, there seemed to be a number of drinking establishments nearby... But rather than stepping into one of the homey-looking pubs, he had crossed the street and had forked over the sodding ten-pound cover charge to pay for the privilege of stepping into a bloody dance club.

What the hell had he been thinking? Well, he hadn’t, that much was obvious. But now that he was here, and now that his eyes had adjusted to the somewhat dim light, he found that perhaps it wasn’t quite as boisterous as he had first feared. Not that the music wasn’t obnoxiously loud, because it certainly was, but there weren’t an overabundance of bodies out on the dance floor, either. The environment was just enough to lend a certain air of anonymity but not quite enough to overwhelm all of his senses. Hm. Maybe this would end up being just what he needed.

Greg stood there for a moment more, letting the fierce rhythm of the music start to seep into his bones. He breathed in deep and rolled his head on his shoulders, feeling his spine ripple into something approximating relaxation, and that was when he became aware of eyes on him. He turned slowly and found himself gaping at the man behind the bar. Long and lean, he moved with an easy grace that captured Greg’s imagination quite handily. He shook himself as the man glanced over at him in the middle of pouring drinks, his sharp gaze seeming to pierce right through him.

Right. The look had been more calculating than anything else, but he was fairly sure that there had been a hint of something deeper there. Of course, it was probably nothing more than stark curiosity. After all, in his rumpled suit and tatty mack, he wasn’t exactly dressed for this sort of place, was he? But what the hell - if he was going to do this thing, he might as well go all in, right?

He propelled himself into motion, slipping his mack off and draping it over a stool before settling down on top of it. He tugged his tie a bit looser and waited patiently for the barman to finish his task before signalling him. He approached a little warily, which Greg found amusing, as he was hardly an imposing figure.

“Scotch on the rocks, if you please.”

The bartender inclined his head gracefully and leant in a bit closer to ensure that he could be heard clearly. “And does sir prefer a particular brand?”

Greg blinked rapidly as the man’s voice washed over him, sounding quite like sex personified. It was black velvet over steel, somehow warm and distant all at once, absolutely throbbing with the promise of - something. Something wild and wonderful that he felt he had lost a long time ago. Greg tugged at his collar as he cleared his throat awkwardly. “Anything 12-year will do me, but I do prefer Glenlivet if you have it.”

His answer seemed to please the barman, as he withdrew with a tiny smile playing around the corners of his lips. Greg stared openly as the man reached for the bottle, stretching up perhaps a bit unnecessarily, as he was rather tall to begin with. He let his gaze travel downward, to the pert little bottom that was framed very nicely in a pair of snug dark jeans. The waistcoat that was buttoned up over a close-fitting crisp white shirt almost looked like it was made of suede or some other sumptuous material. It was practically begging to be touched, or maybe even stroked.

Greg dropped his eyes as the man once again turned to look at him, his head tilted in an inquisitive manner. Greg focused on the glass that he was putting down in front of him, refusing to let his eyes linger on the fine line of light brown spots freckling his forearms, clearly on display. Ginger, oh God, he was ginger, with a body that looked like it would be Heaven to touch, and a voice that could send him straight into the deepest pits of Hell.

“Myc.” Greg blinked rapidly and met the man’s cool gaze. “You wanted to know, so I thought I’d tell you. My name is Myc.” He took the note that Greg was holding out to him in between his long, elegant fingers, folding it up and tucking it away absentmindedly.

Greg tilted his head. “Really? That seems a bit plain for you.”

His response seemed to surprise the man, and yet please him at the same time. “Plain? In what way?”

Taking a sip of his scotch to fortify himself, Greg hummed noncommittally and waved a hand in a vague up and down motion. “The way you look, the way you move. Your bearing - it’s...well, it’s regal. Mike is just - plain, unassuming.”

The man preened slightly even as he shook his head, his forelock falling over his brow. “Not Mike. Myc.”

Greg raised one eyebrow. “I’m really not hearing a difference there, mate.”

There was another ghost of a smile as the man leant in again. “Mycroft Holmes, at your service.”

“Oh, well, that’s more like it! Properly aristocratic and all. A lovely name for a truly lovely man.” Greg felt a swift flash of unseemly pride as the vaguest hint of pink bloomed on Mycroft’s cheeks. “Why shorten it?”

Mycroft glanced around. “I find it’s easier, here.”

“Anonymity.” Greg let his gaze wander back over the dance floor before locking eyes with the barman once again and gracing him with a fleeting grin.

He tilted his head in acknowledgement. “In a way, yes.” He watched as Greg took another sip of his drink, biting his lower lip as his eyes lingered on his mouth. Greg smirked internally, hardly believing his luck. The evening was definitely looking up, and even more so as the regally-named Mycroft went to the end of the bar and around, pulling someone aside to take over for him. Greg’s heart stuttered in his chest as the man sidled over and sank down onto the stool next to him with a little sigh of relief. “I seem to be getting a bit too old to be standing around all night.” Mycroft turned to him with another calculating look. “Tell me about yourself.”

“Me? What on earth could you possibly want to know about me?” Greg leant back and indicated his well-worn suit, looking down at himself with derision. “I’m dull and boring. Nothing interesting about me at all.”

“Well, I believe that an exchange of names is often customary. And since I already shared mine with you...”

“God, that was rude of me, wasn’t it? Greg Lestrade.”

Another half-smile. “I am pleased to meet you, Gregory.” Greg almost got a real smile out of Mycroft by virtue of the glare that he lowered at him, but the barman shook it off far too easily. “And what is it that you do?”

“I'm in numbers. I’m an analyst for an auditing firm. Essentially, we get called in to various businesses and go over their books to make sure that nobody is cheating anybody else. Check, double-check, triple-check.” Greg shrugged as he spun his glass over the bar-top. “I quite like numbers. They’re simple and elegant, and there are distinct rules to follow. It can be rather fulfilling to catch someone trying to bend those rules. They don’t always understand that the numbers won’t lie for them, that they _can’t_ lie.” He frowned faintly. “They’re too pure to lie.” He shook himself out of his introspective fugue with a little grin. “See? Boring.”

“Oh, I must contradict that statement quite strenuously. It’s rather obvious that you have a passion for your work, even if it has perhaps beaten you down a bit.” Greg blinked in surprise at the low tone of Mycroft’s voice, and watched with raised eyebrows as he ran an elegant finger under the collar of his shirt and caressed the perfect knot in his tie. “I find myself rather intrigued.” Mycroft leant into him slightly. “Or at least a little more so than just a moment ago.” Greg bit his lip as he tried to hide a foolish grin, subconsciously leaning into Mycroft as he straightened in his seat. “And how did you end up in here, may I ask?”

“Not sure, really. I missed my tube stop so I decided to take a walk and thought it might be nice to get a bit tipply. Rather than going to a pub, I looked across the street and saw this place. A little voice told me to check it out, so I did.” He knocked back the rest of his drink and decided to just go for it. “Wasn’t sure at first, but I’m rather glad I did, now.” He winked at Mycroft as he turned slightly on his stool. “Maybe it was fate.”

“I tend not to believe in such supernatural claptrap. However... I am certainly glad that you did as well.” Mycroft smoothed his hands down his waistcoat as he seemed to debate something in his head. Greg watched the progress of those fine fingers with greedy and perhaps even jealous eyes. He glanced up at the throaty chuckle this garnered him, and grinned wickedly. Mycroft’s breath seemed to catch in his chest briefly and he stood, his cheeks blazing as he held out a hand. “Would you care to dance with me?”

Greg had the feeling that asking wasn’t something that Mycroft Holmes did very often, and that it had perhaps taken more than a bit of courage for him to risk the possible rejection. He took his hand and squeezed it gently as he got to his feet. “I don’t want to get you in trouble with your boss...”

Mycroft grinned as he shook him off briefly and reached out to tug Greg’s suit jacket off. He gathered his discarded mack and ducked back behind the bar to stash them both away. After passing a few words with the bloke who had replaced him behind the bar, he simply grabbed Greg’s tie and started to drag him out to the dance floor. Mycroft tossed a giggle over his shoulder along with a smouldering look that damn near made all of Greg's clothes evaporate.

“I _am_ the boss.”

Greg rolled his eyes as he grabbed at the narrow waist, humming low as Mycroft casually draped his arms over his shoulders. “Of course you bloody are.”

It was a trifle awkward at first, both of them holding back slightly for fear of driving the other off. It soon became abundantly clear that neither of them was willing to let this opportunity go to waste, however. The music overhead shifted into something deep and throbbing, and Mycroft did something with his hips that made Greg growl threateningly. The quiet gasp that this elicited was almost covered by the music, but Greg heard it clearly, having grabbed at Mycroft’s arse to pull him in closer. His dance partner threw his head back with a wild laugh, but didn’t hesitate to slip a knee in between Greg’s thighs, grinding up against him not at all subtly as he shifted and twisted against him.

Feeling the lusciousness of the body tucked up close to his, the way the muscles under his hands were flexing and twisting, Greg’s head swam with utter desire. Mycroft’s eyes twinkled down at him in merriment and tempered lust, and he suddenly realised something about his companion. He was clearly a born leader, a man that was used to being in charge, to having his demands met without reprisals or complaints.

Perhaps he needed that to be taken away from him for one night, in the same way that Greg needed to forget about everything except himself for one night. Grinning like a hungry predator at Mycroft's sharp intake of breath, Greg abruptly pulled him down into a soul-searing kiss. The taller man absolutely melted into him, only pulling away when Greg allowed him to, gazing down at him with dazed eyes and a dopey grin.

Greg cupped the back of his head gently, running his fingers through his hair. “You’re taking me home tonight.”

It was a statement, not a question, and Mycroft conceded without a second thought. Leaning back down in anticipation of another heart-stopping kiss, he breathed out, “Oh God, _yes_ ,” against his lips.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hadn't really intended to continue this, but the idea was in my head and I haven't posted anything in forever and I hope you'll all forgive me and accept this meagre offering and and and...
> 
> *sigh*
> 
> Please do comment, it helps to feed the muse...

Greg’s fingers tightened down almost instinctively, both on hair and on arse, pulling Mycroft into him as though he wanted to meld their bodies together. Which, to be quite frank, was _exactly_ what he wanted. Smiling at the tiny whimper that vibrated into his mouth, he once again gentled his motions, grinding languidly against the thigh that was tucked between his legs.

“Do you need to stick around until close?”

Mycroft grinned at him brightly, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “That eager, are we?”

Greg ground up against him again as he growled low. “You tell me.”

 _“Hngh.”_ He watched with delight as Mycroft’s eyelashes fluttered becomingly, as his lips parted on the soft sound of desire. He shuddered delicately as he shook his head. “No. No, my people are all extremely competent, and it’s a quiet night. There is no need for me to remain.”

“Then take me home.” Greg tugged hard at his hair. “Now.”

Mycroft shook himself free without delay and let out a sharp whistle to attract the attention of the man behind the bar. Although Greg couldn’t actually see his face, there must have been something in Mycroft’s expression that spoke clearly of his intention, as the employee broke out into a salacious grin and winked as he lifted both hands in a thumbs-up.

As Mycroft turned back to him, already reaching for his hand, Greg felt something in his chest warm a little at the jubilant look in those grey eyes. It had been a very long time since anyone had seemed so eager to be alone with him, especially without being rather blotto first. Oh, he still wanted to tear those exquisitely snug jeans right the hell off that long body and absolutely wreck the man - but he found himself also wanting to get to know him a bit better as well. As Greg was quickly tugged down a back corridor, he allowed a tiny spark of hope to alight in his brain that it just _might_ be a mutual feeling.

Stopping at a secured door at the end of the corridor, that spark flickered brighter in his head as Mycroft turned to him, his bold demeanour shifting into something a bit subtler as he bit his bottom lip shyly. He blushed as he put a hand to Greg’s eyes, blocking the view of the keypad as he tapped out the entry code. Greg rolled his eyes with a little grin, and took in a soft gasping breath as a gentle kiss was pressed to a spot behind his ear. In the next moment, he heard the click of the lock disengaging, and felt a sharp nip above his collar. Then he was once again granted his sight as Mycroft stepped aside and beckoned him toward the set of stairs that had been behind the solid steel door.

Greg quirked an eyebrow. “This is home?”

Mycroft shrugged as his hand was captured, as Greg started dragging him up the staircase. “I own the building.” The door shut behind them with a solid clang, neatly cutting off the noise from the club.

Greg shook his head. “Of course you bloody do.” He paused suddenly a few steps up and looked down into a pleasantly flushed face. “Any chance you might need a personal accountant?”

Mycroft blinked up at him, his mouth hanging open slightly. “I... _um_.”

Greg tugged at his hand again as his brain blared out a silent warning. “Never mind. Too forward. Sorry.”

He stopped as Mycroft wrapped an arm around his waist and pressed a surprisingly chaste kiss to his cheek. “Later. We’ll talk.” He graced him with the wickedest of grins. “After.”

The tension in Greg’s spine eased, and he laughed quietly as Mycroft swiftly took the lead again, practically yanking him up the remainder of the stairs toward a door painted in a startling array of colours. It hadn’t escaped his notice that they had both devolved into an extremely simple mode of speech, nearly grunting out one- and two-syllable words. Could have something to do with the majority of their blood flow being re-directed to certain throbbing body parts, of course.

Not that a lot of thinking or speaking was going to be required, as heavy-lidded grey eyes captured his, as that door opened easily and Greg was pulled into Mycroft’s spacious flat. He caught only the barest impression of a large open loft that seemed to be rather sparsely decorated. Most of the ambient light was coming from a galley-style kitchen off to the right, outfitted with a full array of gleaming stainless steel appliances.

“Bloody...,” was all Greg was able to spit out before he was spun around and pushed up against the door, and he felt his knees go weak at the sensation of nimble fingers working at his belt impatiently. Mycroft’s mouth was on his, his tongue deft and his teeth hungry. Growling low in his chest, he swiftly flipped them so that Mycroft was trapped between his body and the wall, grinding into his hand as he slipped it into his pants. The tiny whimper and low moan of appreciation was impossible to miss, and Greg swallowed both eagerly before pulling back slightly.

He reached up to run his thumb over Mycroft’s kiss-bitten lips, smiling sharply as they parted and his tongue flickered out to lap at it. Greg hissed with pleasure as he slipped it into that nimble wet heat, as Mycroft’s eyes rolled back slightly at the feeling of him tugging at his teeth. “This.” Greg reached up to grab hold of the elegant tie as his thumb was sucked languidly. “This mouth needs to be on me.”

Mycroft’s eyes widened slightly, a hint of defiant challenge glimmering in the tiny bit of grey iris that was nearly swallowed up by hugely dilated pupils. The little quirk at the corner of his mouth gave Greg all the permission he needed, and of course the easy manner in which Mycroft’s knees folded underneath him as he tugged him down spoke to his consent even louder.

Greg’s body shuddered with delight as he looked down, smearing Mycroft’s saliva over his high cheekbone. With a little quirk of an elegantly sculpted brow, his eager supplicant reached up and roughly yanked both trousers and pants down to mid-thigh. Greg shuddered again at the soft coo of delight, at the first exploratory touches of cool fingers on his overheated flesh. He snarled under his breath as Mycroft reached up to push his shirt out of the way, tilting his head this way and that as he inspected him in the half-light.

He crooned again as he licked his lips, and Greg damn near felt his legs completely give way at the hungry manner in which Mycroft looked at him, as though he were a dog that hadn’t been fed properly in years and there was a juicy steak being dangled in front of his face. The vague impression became something of a certainty as Mycroft abruptly stuck his nose at the root of his cock and sucked in a harsh breath before pressing a soft kiss to the silky skin there. Greg shook his head as there was the tiniest flicker of tongue over his bollocks, growling incoherently as he struggled to find his voice.

“Get on with it, tart.” Mycroft leant back slightly and raised an insolent eyebrow, the very tip of his tongue peeking out from reddened lips and oh-so-white teeth. “There’ll be time for slow teases later.”

Greg blinked as Mycroft’s chest rose with excitement at the last word, as he let out his breath with a soft hiss of approval. Later. Yes, whatever this was for now, they both recognised that it could easily become something so much more. But later. Now was not a time for slow and sensual, no, now was a time for the quick rush of pleasure, for riding the flash-bang of chemicals washing over their brains and perhaps indulging in a bit of gentle exploration in the aftermath.

Later.

Excitement glowing in his eyes and burning on his cheeks, Mycroft took Greg in hand and bent his head to his task. Greg reached out to brace himself against the door as he was engulfed in wet heat, as the deep hum of approval from down below damn near shook him to bits. Shaking his head to regain clarity, he swiftly flicked the buttons on his shirt open, holding the edges to the side to get a better view of the action down below. He had to shut his eyes for a moment after watching his cock disappear between those beautifully reddened lips, afraid that he would pop off at any moment.

Christ, it was almost like he had walked straight onto the set of a porno or something... Greg frowned slightly as he glanced up, briefly scanning the corners of the room. “You don’t have any, like, cameras in here or anything, right?”

Mycroft chuckled low in his chest, once again making Greg’s balance waver. His only response was to wink up at him saucily, as he clearly did not want to pull off for anything as trite as conversation. Although Mycroft certainly seemed to enjoy the implication, as he took in a solid breath from his nose and abruptly deep-throated Greg’s cock, gagging discreetly before backing off and once again resuming a more measured pace, a trace of tears leaking from the corner of one eye.

 _“Hngk!”_ Greg took in a hasty breath of his own as a jolt of pleasure streaked through his bollocks, involuntarily reaching out to tug at Mycroft’s hair. The low moan of bliss that this generated seemed to vibrate through his whole body, and Greg nodded in pleased understanding. “Oh yes - but if it’s to be like that...” He yanked impatiently at his shirt and vest, drawing them both over his head in a tangled mess. “You like that, hm? Like playing the eager little cocksucking slut?”

Mycroft’s eyes rolled back in his head, his body shuddering hard. Greg grinned down at him, baring his teeth and growling faintly. “Good. Because I fully intend to take advantage of your services, whore.” He felt the sharpness of his smile diminish as Mycroft’s eyes went wide, and he reached down to caress his high cheekbone. “If that’s all right with you?”

Mycroft pulled off somewhat reluctantly, licking up the sheen of pre-come that coated his lips. His hand wandered down to squeeze at himself, still tucked away in those deliciously tight jeans, and he tilted his head back against the door as he took in steady breaths. With a wink and a nod, he gave his consent in an absurdly sexy hoarse whisper. “ _Please_ , Gregory. Use me. I want you to fuck my face until you come. Oh please...”

Greg hissed out a vaguely triumphant exclamation as his head swam, pondering how he even had enough blood in the rest of his body to keep him upright. It all seemed to have gathered in his cock, making him harder than he’d been in years - so hard that it almost _hurt_. “Such an obedient slut.” He gave the hair at the top of Mycroft’s head a sharp jerk. “First of all, you stop playing with yourself. That’s mine, understood?”

“Y-yes sir.” Mycroft’s smirk lingered on the corners of his lips as he acceded to Greg’s demand, slowly lifting his arms and crossing his wrists, allowing them to be held over his head. He whimpered quietly as Greg stepped closer, as he teased the head of his cock around his trembling, wet mouth. Mycroft’s lips parted as he looked up at him, something so open and vulnerable in his expression that Greg nearly backed away. But then it shifted into stark desire and need, a faint whisper of desperation underlying the twinkling humour in his eyes. “P-please.”

With one hand holding Mycroft’s wrists and the other firmly tangled in his hair, Greg crowded closer and slid into his waiting mouth. He swiftly realised that attempting to maintain any sense of control was going to be utterly pointless, as his bollocks were already pulled up tight, tingling with delayed pleasure. Mycroft made muffled sounds of assent as Greg pushed into him almost frantically, greedy little grunts and noisy slurps of his tongue, driving him to thrust deeper and faster, his thighs quivering with the physical effort. He felt the arms that he was holding up going slack in his grip, Mycroft’s throat relaxing and widening as he seemed to melt into the structure at his back, opening himself up to being used just as he had begged to be.

Greg gasped aloud as something deep within him started to unwind, a swift rush of heat spreading through his nethers and quickly making its way through his body. And holy God, but it wasn’t going to be long and what should he do - pull out and come into his hand? Shove in deep and make him take it down his throat? Greg’s rhythm faltered slightly as his mind skittered over the possibilities, that unbearably awkward moment when you’re about to pop off, but you don’t know the bloke you’re with all that well, and yeah, the heat of the moment and all that, but he could never be that selfish, could never quite let go of the inherent respect he felt for anyone who willingly went down on their knees for him, but how could you ask when their mouths were otherwise occupied and oh Christ but it felt too good and _hnnngh..._

He managed to call out a strangled, “How - where,” before his knees started to shake, and Mycroft responded instantly, yanking his hands free from Greg’s limp grasp and reaching around to dig his fingers firmly into the meat of his arse. He pulled him forward and held him fast with an unrelenting intensity, swallowing hard around the head of his prick as Greg groaned out his pleasure, his vision whiting out as he spent down Mycroft’s throat. He braced his shaky hands against the door as he tried to pull away, but apparently his eager little tart wasn’t quite done with him, growling low in his chest as his nails bit into his flesh. Mycroft gagged quietly even as he pulled him in impossibly deeper, his nose blasting short hot gusts of air through Greg’s pubic hair.

Greg blinked down at the top of his head, his hair sticking up in awkward spikes where he had fisted it hard. Letting his spine relax as his blood redistributed itself, he reached down and patted it back into place, running his fingers through it as Mycroft slowly released his grip and eased off on his suction. Greg moaned quietly as he continued to suckle at him languidly, licking up any lingering mess and nosing at his softening flesh. When Mycroft finally allowed him to pull away, he looked up at him with such a smug air of satisfaction about him that Greg simply had to laugh, throwing his head back and letting his amusement bounce back at him from the high ceilings.

“Jesus. Jesus Christ, but you are something.” Greg grasped his hands and pulled. “Up. Come here.”

Mycroft rose a little creakily to his feet, throwing his arms around Greg’s neck and pulling him into an almost desperate kiss. A low sob vibrated through his chest as Greg went for his fly, his fingers fumbling in their haste to free him, eager to feel him in his hand, to make him shudder himself to bits. Greg hummed with satisfaction as his hand closed around Mycroft’s prick, the shaft damp from pre-come and sweat. Mycroft whined and whimpered against his lips as he thrust gently, his hips twisting and writhing sensuously. “Please, oh fucking hell, _please_.”

“Yes.” Greg turned him around, grasping at the waistband of jeans and pants and tugging them down, aided in his intent by a saucy wriggle. He took a moment to admire Mycroft’s pert little bum, running his thumbs over it as he grasped at his hips. “Beautiful. You gorgeous little thing.”

“Gregory!” Mycroft threw him an ardent look over his shoulder, desperation simply swimming in those cool grey eyes, and Greg answered as best he could, snugging up close and reaching around for his prick. The minute shudders in the body that he was pressed up against told Greg just how to touch him, just how to pump and stroke. He let his fingers play along the shaft and down, cupping Mycroft’s tight bollocks and giving them a little squeeze, smiling into the silken fabric of his waistcoat as he let out a small cry.

Reaching around his torso with his left arm, Greg pulled Mycroft’s clothing up out of the way, encouraging him to move with filthy words whispered into his ear. “Oh yes, that feels good, don’t it? Want to come, baby? I know you do - come on, fuck my fist, make it all dirty for me.” He tightened his fingers and growled quietly as Mycroft panted for breath, his hips moving in short, quick jerks. With a sharp smile pressed into the back of Mycroft’s neck, Greg suddenly twisted his wrist around the head of his prick, laughing low as he convulsed silently in his arms.

Although his fingers were suddenly a great deal slicker than they had been, Greg was fairly sure that most of Mycroft’s release was spattered all over his front door. He carefully carried him through each little aftershock, squeezing gently at his shaft as Mycroft continued to move, slow and deliberate. When he finally subsided, resting more of his weight against the door, Greg moved his hand down, hooking it in between his thighs. He tightened the arm that was wrapped around his torso, pressing his surprisingly plump cock in between Mycroft’s arse-cheeks. Holy Christ, he could almost go again - when was the last time  _that_ had happened?

Greg couldn’t miss the softly bitten-back, “Oh fuck yes,” that was murmured breathlessly in his direction and he shuddered deliciously, nosing at Mycroft's damp hairline and humming low in his chest.

“God. I don’t want to let you go.” He sighed even as his heartbeat picked up at his forwardness, a little shocked that his stupid mouth had blithely let that idle thought slip out. Figuring that he was about to be shook off and maybe even pitched down the stairs, he simply held Mycroft closer, tucking his cheek down on his shoulder. He wondered vaguely if he even were capable of releasing him, as his arms seemed a bit beyond his control at the moment.

“Then don’t.” Greg startled and pulled away slightly, looking into a pleasantly flushed face, into sincere grey eyes. “Don’t let go. Stay with me. For the night. For...”

Greg nodded as he pulled him in for an awkward, twisted-up kiss that was nevertheless utterly perfect. “For the night, yes. For...” He left the implication hanging in the air just as Mycroft had, even though his heart was screaming at him, _‘Forever,’_ almost frightened by the strength of it as he read the very same longing in his would-be one-night-stand’s eyes.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now for the continuation that no-one asked for!
> 
> I have bits and pieces of stuff everywhere these days, so I figure, what the hell. Post the bits that I like and that I can post, tease the everloving hell out of people. I really like the dynamic I've got going for these two, and have a good start on a chapter to follow. After that, who knows. Maybe another year between updates. 
> 
> But in the meantime, here are our boys being silly and sexy and just having a good ol' time...

Mycroft chuckled softly as he tried to turn, bucking gently against Greg’s hold. “Alright, when I said, ‘don’t let go’, I didn’t mean it _quite_ that literally.”

Greg grinned as he relented, only to immediately start working the buttons of Mycroft’s waistcoat loose as he turned and leant against his front door. Mycroft stretched sensuously as he was stripped down, ‘tsk’ing quietly as his clothing was simply tossed aside once removed. He bit his lip against a heady rush of giggles as Greg hopped in place in front of him in an attempt to get his shoes off before the tangle of his trousers around his ankles actually managed to kill him.

He let the giggles bubble up and out as Greg managed to get one foot free, wiggling it happily as he looked up at him with a triumphant grin and a cheeky twinkle in his eyes. Mycroft was still giggling as he was pushed back against the door, as soft but insistent kisses were pressed to his cheeks, his neck. The laughter petered off into low moans of pleasure as Greg rubbed their naked bodies together, murmuring words of praise into Mycroft’s skin.

“So soft and creamy... Mm, such a luscious little tart.” Greg ducked his head and sucked gently at one pale pink nipple before dragging his tongue all the way back up into the hollow of Mycroft’s throat. He chuckled as Mycroft threw his head back with a sharp gasp, running his nose up the elegant column of his neck and nibbling lightly at his chin. “So sweet and tasty, oh yes.”

“Gre- _Hnnn..._ ” Mycroft clutched harder at the solid body pressed up against his, running his nails down Greg’s back and digging them into his firm bottom. He head began to spin as his knees trembled, and he grasped at Greg’s hips, pushing at him gently, pushing him away. “Gregory...”

He frowned slightly as the weight of Greg’s body receded, opening his eyes as gentle hands cupped at his face. “Mycroft?” His belly churned at the softly concerned look in Greg’s gorgeous dark eyes, and his voice caught in his throat, his tongue pulsing uselessly in his mouth. “Something wrong, sweetheart?”

 _Oh God._ Mycroft shook his head, leaning toward Greg’s warmth as he tried to deny the overwhelming sensation of falling. “I just need-” He took in a deep breath and straightened his shoulders, somehow managing to condense the running thought of _I need to sit down before I fall on my face and break my nose oh my God_ into the much more seductive phrase of, “I need you in my bed.”

Greg blinked and grinned foolishly as he stepped back, shuffling the remainder of his clothing to the side as he stretched out his hand. “Then _take_ me to bed, you gorgeous thing.”

Once again, Mycroft had to steel himself against an unnerving sense of vertigo as he pushed away from the door and reached for Greg’s hand. He put a little more sway into his hips than was strictly necessary as he towed him past the galley kitchen, looking back over his shoulder to ensure that those lovely dark eyes were fixed firmly on what he felt was his best attribute. Mycroft was rewarded for his saucy display with one of the wickedest grins he would ever be privileged to behold, accompanied by a tantalising peek of a very wriggly tongue.

Delighting in the little shiver that ran up his spine, Mycroft tugged Greg past the opaque glass panels that had been set up to delineate his bedroom from the rest of the loft. Mycroft yanked Greg closer to the bed and spun him in place, pushing him down so he was sitting on the mattress with his feet on the floor. Without pausing even for breath, he straddled those fine thighs and plopped his arse right down in Greg’s lap, wrapping his arms around his neck as he pressed their torsos together.

Greg tilted his head up as Mycroft leant down, growling low as the little tart taunted him with only the most fleeting of touches with lips and teeth, giggling breathlessly as he was roughly squeezed in retaliation. But the moan that reverberated in that lithe chest as he moved his hands down, as he caressed and fondled Mycroft’s pert little bottom,  _oh..._ Oh, that delicious moan seemed to make the divine creature in his lap absolutely melt into him, and Greg shivered as Mycroft spread his legs a bit wider, tilting his arse back as he wordlessly encouraged him to grope at will.

Greg obliged, oh yes he did, running his hands over every bit of creamy skin that he could reach, rubbing and squeezing, grunting quietly as Mycroft rolled his hips against him. He dared to move his fingers a little further inward, almost holding his breath as he tickled up the cleft of Mycroft’s arse, his middle finger catching just at the edge of his rim.

 _“Hngfuck.”_ Mycroft threw his head back as he swayed dangerously on his perch, clutching hard at Greg’s broad shoulders. In the next moment there were strong hands at the small of his back and between his shoulder blades, and he found himself flat on his back on the bed with the most handsome man he’d ever seen looking down on him, his dark eyes blazing with need and hunger. Mycroft made some kind of indiscriminate noise deep in his throat as he wound his fingers into the hair at the back of Greg’s head, drawing him down into a long, breathless kiss.

He moaned as Greg moved against him, wrapping his legs loosely around his waist as they rutted together mindlessly. Mycroft shuddered hard at the sensation of wet lips at his ear, at rough stubble being rubbed into his cheek and neck. He turned his head to the side to give Greg more access, making needy little noises as he felt his skin going raw, absurdly wishing that he could feel that delicious burn all over his body and imagining how it might feel between his thighs in particular.

He very nearly lost control completely as Greg shifted atop him, twisting his hips so that his cock slid under Mycroft’s bollocks, pressing insistently against the crack of his arse and smearing pre-come over his entrance. Mycroft yelped softly as he grabbed hold of Greg’s shoulders, pushing him off.

Greg sputtered quietly as he went up on his hands and knees, shaking his head to clear it as he looked down into Mycroft’s stricken face. “Too much? Too quick?”

“No!” Mycroft fluttered his hands vaguely before wriggling out from under Greg’s reassuring weight. “God _no_. Just...”

He held up a finger as he got to his feet, pointing at the drawer in his bedside table before practically sprinting for a door that Greg realised must be the bathroom. He rubbed his hands with barely suppressed glee as he listened to the slamming of drawers and frantic rummaging in cupboards. Greg slid the bedside drawer open and snatched up the bottle of lube that was lying there, humming happily as he gave it a little shake. If the supplies were coming out, that was a very good sign for jolly old Greg Lestrade, oh yes indeed...

His grin faltered slightly as Mycroft emerged from the toilet, his expression rather crestfallen as he fiddled with an unopened box of condoms. Greg reached out and pulled him closer, tilting his head as Mycroft relinquished his burden, tapping on one corner of the box in a wordless explanation. Greg bit his lip against the rather uncharitable laughter that was bubbling up in his chest as he noted that they had expired well over a year ago.

Mycroft beat him to it, bestowing a rueful grin on him before breaking out into nervous giggles. Greg went up on his knees as he tossed the useless box over his shoulder, wrapping his arms around Mycroft’s waist and propping his chin up against his sternum. “S’alright. Bet the ones I have at mine are absolutely decrepit.” He slowly dragged his chin from side to side, winking as Mycroft threaded his fingers into his hair. “There are still plenty of other things we can do.”  

Mycroft frowned and shook his head. “No.” Greg drew back in surprise, but didn’t get the chance to say anything, as Mycroft reached down and gave his cock a firm squeeze. Grinning wickedly at the garbled noise that Greg spit out, he shook his head again. “I _deserve_ this, goddammit.” Mycroft gentled both his grip and his voice, leaning down to run his lips over Greg’s cheek as he gave him a leisurely stroke. “We both do.”

“Well, _Jesus._ I can’t say that I disagree with you.” Mycroft huffed out a quiet laugh and shivered as Greg’s gruff voice tickled at his ear. “So what do you suggest we do?”

Mycroft squeezed again before relinquishing his prize, pushing Greg back onto his heels. “I _suggest_ that you keep your fine arse right here in my bed, and that I run to fetch some of the condoms that we keep in the loos downstairs.” He turned smartly on his heel and marched out of the bedroom and past the kitchen, grinning slightly as he heard the springs on his mattress bounce.

He narrowed his eyes as he turned, biting his lip as Greg peeked around one of the glass partitions. With laughter in his voice, Greg called out, “I hate to see you go, but I do so _love_ to watch you leave.”

Mycroft paused as he carefully tucked himself into his jeans and even more carefully drew up the zip, having foregone his pants for the sake of expediency. “You are a cheeky devil.” He ran his hands over his bottom and turned, looking over his shoulder as he gave his bum a hard squeeze. “But it is rather nice, isn’t it?”

“Can’t wait to sink in balls-deep.”

Greg snickered as Mycroft twitched violently, nearly ending up on his face as he bent over for his shirt.  Mycroft huffed indignantly as he tugged it on with sharp jerks, his face so hot that he thought his hair just might catch fire. “Horrid man!”

“You love it.”

Mycroft’s expression softened as he reached for the door, his shirt flapping open. “Get back in bed, Gregory.” He shook his head as his bed springs creaked again rather alarmingly, wondering if perhaps Greg had bounced hard enough to actually wind up on the floor.

For his part, Greg was giggling madly with his face pressed firmly to the duvet, trying to get a handle on his giddiness. Although it seemed as though Mycroft was just as eager as he was if not more so, he really _really_ didn’t want to scare him off by being too greedy. After taking a moment to breathe, he decided that a bit of snooping might help to calm him down.

Just a very little bit, though. Throwing his legs over the edge of the mattress, Greg slid open the drawer in the bedside table again, taking more careful note of the objects within this time. Most of it was fairly standard, some lip balm and a small bottle of hand lotion, ear buds and a notepad accompanied by the usual jumble of pens. He blinked at the rather substantial volume on Roman history that was tucked up in the corner, with a pair of reading glasses folded up on top.

Reaching for them, Greg took in breath on a short gasp as his heartbeat seemed to shift in its rhythm. As much as he wanted the man writhing and panting underneath him, he suddenly realised just how much he wanted this, too. He wanted to be sitting next to Mycroft in this bed while he wore these silly little specs and read his ridiculous textbook. He wanted wild and hot and utterly mind blowing, but he also wanted the quiet nights in - the lazy lie-ins the morning after and breakfast in bed. Dammit, he wanted it _all_ \- and all after only one damn shag.

He tried to shake it out of his head as he heard a fumbling at the door, determined not to let his rather pathetic neediness rear its ugly head and scare Mycroft off before they really had a chance at - whatever. Hastily placing the glasses back in the drawer, he flung himself back down on the bed in what he hoped was an alluring pose, laying on his belly with his chin propped up on his hands, swinging his feet in the air.

Mycroft seemed a bit out of breath as he hurried back into the bedroom, his features a mix of sheepishness and annoyance as he brandished a pint glass stuffed near to overflowing with a variety of individual condom packets.

Greg slithered up onto his knees and shuffled closer, making grabby hands at him until Mycroft moved close enough for him to start working his clothes open again. He smirked as he noticed that only a couple of the shirt buttons had been done up, and in completely the wrong order to boot. “That was quick.”

Mycroft clucked his tongue, huffing out a quiet laugh as Gregory tugged impatiently at his jeans. He waved the pint glass. “This was just outside the door downstairs. Apparently some of my staff anticipated the necessity and decided to be _helpful_.” He rolled his eyes as Greg burst into laughter, his dark eyes twinkling at him most unfairly. Shaking his head, Mycroft slowly upended the glass so that the condoms tipped down over Greg’s head, adding his own childish giggles to the uncharacteristically merry sounds echoing through his flat. “They shall all be fired in the morning.”

Greg sputtered as he sat back on his heels, his fingers shuffling through the pile, flicking the brightly coloured and no doubt horridly flavoured novelty brands off the mattress and onto the floor. “Tyrant.” Finding a few suitable packets, he swept them up into his hands and scooted backwards on his bum, completely abandoning any decorum in his eagerness to get Mycroft back into bed with him. He deposited his burdens on the bedside table next to the bottle of lube, flopping into the pillows with one packet clenched in his teeth. Greg winked as he wriggled into place, lacing his hands behind his head in an obvious attitude of ‘come and get it’.


End file.
